


And So It Begins

by Olorisstra



Series: Permutations of A Very Respectable Burglar (or Same Backstory Different Ships) [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: And Dwalin's blue beard he's not escaping that, And it's just the backstory, Bilbo is Bixa is Bilbo (and Bixa is a plant's name), Bilbo is younger than book!Bilbo by about a decade or so, Fem!Bilbo Baggins - Freeform, Gandalf is a Troll, Gandalf is letting them go to their doom, Gen, Hobbits are Yavanna's childrens mythology, Hobbits have weaponized hospitality, Hobbits looks out for other hobbits, I feel so damn bad about it too, I'm going to be using the hoods, Nyris is married already and Gloinnis mother, OC Character Death, OC dwarf family (let's boost the Company's numbers up just a little), Odo was a sweetheart, She won't pair up with any of our dwarves, The book deserves so much love, The dwarves have no idea what they are in for, This has already gotten longer than anticipated, This is a mash up of movie-book-headcanon, This is the beginning of a series of different ships so no shipping here, tw death of a loved one, tw grief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:58:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olorisstra/pseuds/Olorisstra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While it was known that Bixa Baggins-Took had Took's blood from her mother's side, it was also known that she hadn't, so far as it could have been estimated by her solicitious neighbours, suffered from any undue influence, in the public opinion's eyes.</p><p>(And they were wrong)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of a two parter introductory part to a fic (which is both a series of drabbles and, so far in my head, a series of tags) I've been calling A Very Respectable Burglar, which takes the premise of a fem!Bilbo and then runs for the hills with it, while paying respect to the original text and the derivative movies that followed recently.
> 
> The quest is the same, the dwarves you know are there (plus the Is family) and the end goal and risks are the ones we know. All that happens in between and the endgame ship ... that's up in the wind.
> 
> As I couldn't decide which pairing I would like to write more, I finally gave up and decided "all of them, but not all of them in the same fic" and as such turned this idea into a series which stems from this beginning but should take different ramifications and stumble over different events, styles of courting (or not courting) as it follows different shipping paths.
> 
> But it all starts from here and it all starts the same way.

While it was known that Bixa Baggins-Took had Took's blood from her mother's side, it was also known that she hadn't, so far as it could have been estimated by her solicitious neighbours, suffered from any undue influence, in the public opinion's eyes.

 

Belladonna Took had been  _something_ back in her days, before her marriage and the quiet of Bag End, but her daughter had always seemed to have her head screwed on tighter and her quite furry feet well planted in Hobbiton's soil.

 

True, Bixa  _had_ married a Took cousin, but when your best alternative was a Sackville-Baggins already hounded by a woman like Lobelia Bracegirdle, one wasn't really spoiled for choice. Besides, Odo Took had made good on his pre-marriage promise to move in with her, rather than asking for her to leave Bag End. 

 

Very sensible, on both of their parts, as no one in Hobbiton had been deprived of tasting Bixa's cooking at every fair and event, a fact that had indeed endeared the Took boy some, to his newfound neighbours.

 

Sadly, that had been the point where  _Odo_ 's sensibility had ended. 

 

No one was quite sure of what Odo  _did_ , but apparently it had often meant trips going as far as Bree or the Blue Mountain or even further, imagine that!

 

Bixa had demurred, when asked, and said that Odo had a small business helping people deal with unpleasant relatives and inheritances, one that kept them well afloat without needing to touch on Billa's wealth. Hobbits didn't put above the Big Folk to be unable to deal with such things properly and on their own, but there was the occasional suspicious voice raising up in mutters of _adventuring._

 

Both Odo's wife and his family always hushed up such talk. While it was expected of the Tooks, they had a tendency to hush up whenever one of theirs went adventuring, it was not of Bixa, at least in the beginning. After a while, though, it was reasoned that, after all, a Hobbit couldn't expect a wife to tattle on the husband, especially not a sensible Baggins one, well aware of the importance of one's reputation.

 

And so it surprised no one when Odo failed to turn up, one day, and instead a _dwarf_ , of all beings, brought her a letter, one that lead to poor Bixa donning the black of mourning and make noises about a job gone wrong, vengeful relatives taking their rage out on the poor Odo, who had only been trying to facilitate the division of goods between the feuding siblings.

 

As much sympathy as Hobbiton was able to find for the wife, which was quite a lot thank you very much, the general consensus was that it was very lucky that Bixa and Odo had married so soon after reaching their majority and that he had brought his own end on his own head. 

 

After all, that was the kind of harm you risked when conducting  _that_ kind of business with the likes of  _dwarves_ . Dwarves weren't sensible beings at all, despite being as close in height to Hobbits as another race could get.

 

Mourning garb, for Bixa, and mourning niceties, from her neighbours, aside, life had gone on quite smoothly after Odo's disappearance. Bixa moved from respectable wife to respectable widow, her inheritance and whatever her very rich Took husband left her apparently more than enough to keep her far more than well afloat.

 

More than one bachelor started waiting for the mourning period to end, eyeing her nice figure, her nice Smial and, in some shrewd cases, the nice talk of her money that went along with the general opinion that, at forty-four, Bixa was still quite young enough to have more than enough fauntlings to fill Bag End. She was, indeed, a prime catch.

 

So her sudden departure, preceded by the appearance of as much as  _sixteen_ Dwarves and even  _Gandalf_ of all meddlers, shocked most of Hobbiton.

 

It was the Thàin who revealed, at an assembled Hobbiton, that Odo had left a contract unfulfilled with his death and poor Bixa had now been called to take upon herself the responsability of seeing it through. Until such a time as that was done, she had left the managing of her estate  _and_ of Bag End to the trusted Gaffer's family until such a time she either returned or her favourite cousin, Drogo, came of age and could take over the managing for her.

 

All very sensible, as befitting of a Baggins.

 

That it infuriated and frustrated Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was only a perk, as far as a fair few hobbits spread all over the Shire, and a good part of Hobbiton, were concerned.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Odo had been well set in his burglaring ways long before he and Bixa crossed paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be chapter 2 of 2 but then the backstory wanted to be better explained and then it reached a point where it said 'nah, I'm done, you wanna more? add another chapter' and so this is me, giving up and letting it be it's own thing. I hope to have the third chapter ready soon enough and thanks to everyone who left kudos and read this fic! You are all awesome : 3

Odo had been well set in his burglaring ways long before he and Bixa crossed paths.

She might have grown to begrudge them, if her mother hadn't once confided to her that it had been partially because of her own Took relatives like Odo, the ones a bit more on the adventurous side of things, that they had managed to survive the Fell Winter. Bixa would have believed her mother, on the mere strength of Belladonna being her mother, but though she didn't remember Odo himself, as she had been a faunt of mere fourteen years when that terrible winter had happened, she still remembered the hooded figures that came sometimes to the back door of the kitchen and how there would always be more food after their visits.

She had been more well inclined to accept Odo's proclivities, which he had confessed to her after they were well into the courting process and trying to establish where they would live and their livelihood itself. After all, as her mother as explained to her in ushed tones, burglary wasn't respectable at all , but could turn out to be something that might come in handy.

It had also appealed to her Took side, the idea of her intended going off on quests and helping people who had lost what was legitimately theirs, a condition Odo was adamant on, and retrieve it back for the previous owners. After all, if Lobelia Bracegirdle's mother ever succedeed in her schemes to get her hands on Belladonna Baggin's silver, Bixa would have wanted a burglar handy herself.

Her Baggins side had been incensed by the thought of burglary and stealing and all sort of strange things. It was all very much adventurous , she had reflected, with a faint shiver of what her Baggins side insisted was horror and her Took side insisted was excitement. His reputation, and hers if she married him, would have been destroyed if it was ever going to come to light, she knew. That had been a very important point she had spent much consideration on.

In the end, Odo's mischievous eyes and warm smile, along with the shiver that went through her whenever they sneaked enough time away from their chaperone to share soft kisses, won over her own fears and she sensibly resolved to never lie about his work and just choose very carefully the terms she would use to describe his activities. That wasn't lying. It was ... well, it was just rearranging things to have a more pretty presentation and that was an entirely respectable way of doing things, one that almost every Hobbit was a dab hand at.

 

***

 

The courtship had progressed and Odo had started to bring her little trinkets and objects from all over the East, as courting gifts, along with stories of the dwarves and their curious ways, their uncouthness and loyalty apparently unmatched. They were very different from the Shire folk, Odo had told her, not quite Big Folk but not Small Folk either, exactly, and so very talented in their crafts, as the objects he brought to her attested.

They used _boots_ , of all things, wore their hair long and had beards on their faces instead of on their feet. Long and flowing beards, at that, which they adorned with braids and beads, the second of which were apparently very important in their culture.

It was such a serious matter to them that Odo hadn't been allowed to come home to propose until his dwarven friends had been satisfied with the carvings he had made on the three sets of blank beads they had insisted on him to buy. They were beautiful objects, shiny bronze ones for their courtship and polished silver ones for once they were married.

Odo had carved little forget-me-nots on the borders and the runes for 'beloved' and their names in the first set, tiny slightly wonky roses around the runes for 'wife and husband' and again their names on the second set. The third set he hadn't said much about, except to say that it was traditional to own three sets and not to worry about it.

He hadn't been as convincing as he had hoped to be, and Bixa had a good idea about what those beads were supposed to be, but she had let the argument go and allowed him to braid a portion of her hair on each side of her face, from behind her ears on down, and secure the bronze beads around them, feeling the prettiest Hobbit lass in all of Hobbiton as he told her about his trip in the Blue Mountains and about all the hoods the dwarves used to communicate what trade they were in.

It had been a lovely courtship, no matter how unconventional the rest of the town thought they were being, and as long as it had been, more than two years in fact, they had managed to get married with no dwarves, something Bixa privately felt a bit sorry about because she would have been so very curious to meet them, and with her parents in attendance, as they were slowly coming to the natural end of their lives.

 

***

 

The wedding had taken place on a beautiful day of May, under the party tree, with all of their families, relatives and even distant relatives coming from all over the Shire to see a Took marry a Baggins, again, and celebrate with them as they spoke their vows to each other and had their hands wrapped with ribbons, Yavanna's spring in bloom around them.

There had been a feast to be had, of food and drinks and pipeweed, and even a feast of music, with all the old familiar wedding tunes, a fair number of jigs and fast-paced dances and a couple of strange but cheerful tunes that Odo had learned during his travels and shared with the musicians.

“They are dwarven songs.” Odo had told her, as they danced, and he had whispered in her ear the words, which he hadn't shared with the musicians, making her blush up to her hairline and swat at his shoulder while he laughed in delight at the shade her face had taken. She had also giggled and then laughed with him, helplessly, when she has realized some of her more straightlaced Baggins relatives were dancing on the notes of what was a scandalously bawdy song. Odo had beamed at that.

He always did, when her Took side overtook the Baggins one, and he always had something to whisper to her that would turn any situation in a merrier one. It was one of the things she loved the most about him.

Whatever happened later that night, when they retired to their own room in their own little smial, just two doors from Bag End, Bixa wouldn't have shared with anybody.

Let it just be known, for those of us who are curious about such things, that Odo had heard things in his travels, things that he had long wanted to try and see if they were true with his beautiful Bixa, and that it was a merry time indeed that they had, very satisfying too.

 

***

 

It had done her mother and father good, to see their little Bixa marry with a blush on her cheeks and a smile on her lips, to a good lad who thought the world of her. They had hoped it would happen, as Bixa had been a late child and they were getting on with their age, and it had warmed their hearts to see their hopes made into the reality of the beaming marriage couple.

It had helped them to pass on happily, a few months later, and while it can't be said that it made Bixa happy, it _can_ be said that it helped her, to know that they had gone to the fields of Yavanna with the knowledge that she was comfortably set, as her father would have put it.

Odo had been there, the morning she had found them, and he had remained there for the whole year of mourning, fixed firmly at her side as they went through all the formalities and celebrations, always taking care of having a cup of her favourite tea and warm blankets for her to drape across her lap ready every morning and evening, going down to the market to buy all the ingredients they needed to cook side by side.

They had given their parents back to the fields and held the Feast of Remembrance, sharing their grief with all the other hobbits that had known and loved Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins, and after all that had done, they had held on each other as Bixa cried herself into a fever and Odo wept for the parents he had gained in his heart, long after his own had died.

 

***

 

Odo hadn't stopped his burglaring ways, after, and Bixa hadn't asked him to. She had married a burglar-hobbit and while she did miss his presence a great lot whenever he went, she also loved him as he was and she wouldn't have changed one thing about him if she could help it. Well, except the fact that his feet were always on the freezing side in bed, but that kind of thing could not be helped, sadly.

Odo missed her too, she knew, and he had taken shorter work trips ever since he had started courting her. He had, unprompted by anyone, promised her that he would stop, once she got pregnant, much like her own mother had stopped when she had gotten married.

The thought of having Odo always home, cooking by her side and sharing gossip he heard around the Shire while their own fauntlings filled Bag End, had made Bixa very happy, even though faunts were slow to come in what was probably a combination of Odo's work trips and what she supposed was her own mother's lack of fertility, passed on to her daughter.

It was going to happen, though, she was sure and it was going to be blissful, she had no doubt about it, and whenever she told Odo so, he would look at her with soft eyes, that warm smile he had, the one he got whenever she was talking about making their own family, and kiss her, promising her that yes, it was going to be.

 

***

 

In the June of 1340 Shire Reckoning, ten years after she had become an adult hobbit and eight years after Bixa Baggins married Odo Took, Mali son of Tali brought Odo's belongings back to Bag End, along with the tale of his death at the hand of Orcs and his heartfelt condolences.

 

***

 

There was no body to be given back to the fields, but Mali had brought a map to her.

On that map there was a sign that marked the place where they had buried Odo's body and with that map came the promise that Mali would take her there, so that she could honor her husband's grave or retrieve his bones, whichever she felt was more appropriate.

Bixa accepted both object and promise and put away all of her colorful clothes, donning the black of mourning to go with her pale face and the tear she didn't allow her neighbours to see.

Her grief was private and quiet, expressed in the ache that she felt knowing Odo's side of the bed wasn't going to be filled again and in the quiet sobbing that overtook her whenever she thought of the way he'd hum bawdy songs while working with and around her in the kitchen just as much as it was in her refusal to throw away the tea he had so much loved and she couldn't stand and in the care she used to pack her pipe with Longbottom Leaf, because it had been his favourite and whenever he was at home she could smell it from room to room.

She slipped off the silver beads and took out the dark copper ones that Odo had never talked about, polishing them each morning before sliding them at the end of each braid, the only off note in her otherwise drab attire.

His clothes remained in the wardrobe, where she could see them every morning, but they would just hang there and slowly she got used to not seeing them in the laundry, though she always noticed the way her own clothes seemed to never be enough to fill the clothing line she had in the backyard.

Her tomatoes won another prize and she turned to look at Odo's beaming smile and it wasn't there and that night she cried herself to sleep, because everyone else had looked various amount of pleased to envious and it had all mattered none, without Odo there to put his arm around her waist and whisper to her that growing greenery might not have been a Craft dwarves put much stock into but it was one he deeply appreciated, personally.

She was respectable and appreciated and welcomed in all the parlors of the Shire and it all meant very little to her, now that her husband was gone and this was all that she had left. It was not enough.

She found herself wondering, in her darkest moments, if this was what her life was going to be, from now on, and how she could have ever loved all the inanity of it, when there was a whole world out there, one that had welcomed her husband and made him so special to her.

One that still held her husband in it's ground, until she was ready to go and recover it.

 

***

 

Bixa took out Odo's lockpick set, locked herself out of her own house and set herself to the task of breaking back in, with the vague memories of her husband's explanations about the various tools to guide her and the firm objective of not utterly destroying her own locks in the process.

It took her until well after lunch, so Bixa made herself a hearthy meal, with some extra as she had skipped elevensies, and she felt Odo would have been very proud of her. It had been the most challenging and uplifting morning of her whole summer, so far, and Bixa found herself not feeling as tired as she recently had begun to be.

When she was done eating, she did it again.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hobbits didn't like outsiders trampling around the Shire and asking after well respected widows.

There had been betting, as there usually was, about which family was going to arrive to the door of their burglar first, from Bywater, where they were staying at the local inn.

Gandalf had suggested to come in pairs and in which order they should have come, but for all that he claimed to be an expert on Hobbits, the wizard wasn't all that much of an expert on dwarves. If he had been, he would have known that what he believed to be instructions were going to be taken as guidelines. Easily bent ones at that, at this stage of their trip where there was no danger to be had, yet.

So as soon as the wizard had retired to a table full of hobbits to puff on his pipe and talk to them about pipeweed and fireworks, the betting had begun and the various dwarrows had started finding reasons to be outside and 'stretch their legs'.

Sadly, they hadn't been aware of one crucial detail.

Hobbits didn't like outsiders trampling around the Shire and asking after well respected widows.

***

“I am not sure we are on the right track, brother.” Kili looked around, but there were no markes to be found aside from greenery, greenery and oh, look another spot of greenery, just as similar to the previous ones as all the other spots of greenery surronding the path they were on had been so far.

“We just need to walk until the road comes out into the town, you have heard the Halflings!” Fili answered, clearly more than sure enough of his skill in dealing with others that he had no doubt that the halflings they had talked with had steered them true.

Kili wasn't as convinced as him.

The halflings had given him an impression of well meaning mischievousness that had unsettled him and left him uncertain on the veracity of their instructions. The way they had beamed at them and offered 'some food for the road' hadn't helped, because the town of Hobbiton was supposed to be close enough that they wouldn't need to eat before getting to it.

He said as much to Fili.

“You have seen the size of the meals they serve at the Inn and that ridicolous time table they had affixed on the wall, detailing up to eight meal times in the day, Kili!” Fili laughed, as he had when he had read the timetable in question, attracting more than a few amused looks. “Fat as they are, what for us is just a short walk will surely feel a long trip one needs to be foraged for.”

“True.” Kili admitted, reassured by Fili's surety. He probably was just being paranoid. There was no reason, after all, for the halflings to steer them wrong.

***

Rudibert Bolger gave his son a look stern enough to make his back snap ramroad straight.

“Go to your cousin Bixa's house and warn her that there are dwarves coming around, possibly for things related to poor Odo's old business. Tell her that we have three here and we'll keep them busy until she is ready to receive them and do not come back until you have an answer.” He instructed.

Adalbert nodded, mournful over the loss of cake and sweets from tea that he was going to have to suffer, and gave a look out of the kitchen window where two of the three dwarves were besieged by a little troop of fauntlings in obvious awe of their carving skills. The third one, so rotund that one of his female cousins was ogling him not too subtly, was currently busy sampling his mother's cooking, the same cooking Adalbert was giving up for cousin Bixa's sake.

Ah, the sacrifices a hobbit had to make, for the good of his relatives!

***

“Why, yes.” The Hobbit lass, who had introduced herself as Jessamine Boffin, beamed happily. “Dear Bixa's house. It is not that far and I can lead you there if you can just wait until my laundry has all been put up to dry.” She offered, generously, making a vague gesture towards the heavy-looking basket filled with clothes and sheets.

“I wouldn't dare to impose on you.” Balin replied, though he wouldn't have minded a guide. The road seemed straightforward enough, but he had almost missed the right turn a couple of times and it wouldn't do to lose to the two young princes or, worse, to Oìn and Gloìn, who had seemed so sure of their victory, or, worst of all, to his own brother.

“It would be no imposition.” The lass insisted, giving him another beaming smile and motioning to a nearby short table, with a round plank fashioned out of wood and set around it as a circle. “Please, sit. I will bring you some tea to drink and something to eat while you wait.” She offered and well.

Balin _was_ feeling a bit peckish and the cooking so far had been some of the best he had sampled in his whole life.

“If you insist.” He nodded and was rewarded by an even wider smile.

The bench was wide enough to easily accomodate him and it had been warmed by the sun, which made it all the more pleasing to sit at. He chuckled, with warm fondness and a tinge of wistfulness, at the sight of the young Hobbit that came running out of the house, a package in her tiny hands.

Then his host came out, carrying a tray that was positively laden with food and he forgot everything about the little kid or anything but the little banquet that his host had decided to bring out for him.

There was no denying the welcoming nature of Hobbits.

***

About six feet to the left of the tree line that bordered on the path Fili and Kili were on, carefully esconced in the long grass, Gerontius Took the second and his cousin Adalgrim looked at the two oblivious dwarves, trampling on toward Waymeet, with deeply satisfied expressions.

“You don't think it's time I _casually_ met them?” Their cousin Flambard, half a foot more to the right, asked, in a soft whisper that easily blended in with the natural sounds of the trees and the vegetation. “They did say that they do have to get to cousin Bixa's house. She might not appreciate our intervention if we delay them for too long.”

“Let them get lost a bit more. You heard how funny they found our eating habits.” Adalgrim whispered back.

“And to call us fat!” Gerontius added, his own voice pitched as low as his cousins. “We are growing hobbits, nicely rotund and very well proportioned, we are not _fat_! Not yet! Can you imagine, if they were to call cousin Bixa that, in addition to calling her a _halfling_?”

“Or them bringing all that weaponry --” Adalgrim gestured towards the dark haired dwarf's bow and arrow and the sword the other one carried “-- into her smial? Maybe chipping the furniture?”

 _Looks_ were exchanged.

Adalgrim and Gerontius nodded to each other with satisfaction, at the sight of the narrow look Flambard's face was sporting now. They didn't expect any further offers to help the two confunded dwarves, at least for a fair good while.

***

Dwalin had initially set off with Thorin but after his King and battle brother had kept insisting not only on going the wrong way but also in refusing Dwalin's well meant corrections, he had decided to leave Thorin to get lost and ornery on his own.

The Shire was a harmless place, devoid of any danger Thorin couldn't handle on his own. Given that, Dwalin wasn't about to put up with the nerve-wracking experience that was dealing with Thorin when the other dwarf was as much in the wrong as he was unwilling to admit it.

Now, he only needed to shake off the only two halflings daft enough to think he was interesting rather than scary, who had thus decided that he was going to make the most interesting target for a thousand and one questions, ranging from the valid (“What brings you here?”) that he wasn't inclined to answer to the inane (“Do you use blueberries to get that amazing shade of blue in your beard?”) that he wasn't going to deign with any consideration.

He had even tried growling at them and thank Mahal he had gotten long since separated by Thorin, for all that the sound had accomplished had been to make the two idiots wonder whether dwarves were relatives of wolves.

("What with your facial fur and all." the daft things had dared to argue).

So busy he was, trying to shake off Amaranth and Saradas Brandybuck, that he missed completely the turn for Hobbiton and instead kept right on the path he was on.

He didn't even notice it.

***

Gimìs' sister was not above what Nyrìs called 'a harmless bit of self-helping'. Which was what Gimìs called 'a healthy awareness that not getting caught is the one thing that matters, aside from victory' and what Gloinnìs plainly defined as 'unabashed cheating'.

Nyrìs was also in the helpful possession of a map that Mali had drawn for reference, when he had come to deliver the dreadful news of the death of their original burglar. Without that helpful piece of carefully folded paper, the Is family would have gotten lost or turned around enough times to get to the house by dinner time, at the very least, given how cheerfully unhelpful the Shire itself was, bearings-wise, to anyone above Hobbit's height.

As they had come prepared, though, the Is family had managed to arrive in Hobbiton just after lunch, which was the perfect time to do a little restocking at the local market and a bit of selling of the wares Gimìs' sister had insisted upon bringing, ignoring the huffing and puffing of the nobler dwarves in the Company (who had still availed themselves of the Is family's cart to carry their music instruments when push had come to shove).

The Ur family's toys had sold particularly well with the littler Hobbits, as Mali had mentioned when he had recounted the tale his visit to the Shire to the rest of the family. A tale complete with possible-market-opportunities notes and available-goods informations, because that was Mali for you. Gimìs could hear Nyris counting the Ur family's share out of their fat earnings, they made their way up the hill Bag End was situated on, followed by the well wishes of the slightly bewildered Hobbits they had met in the market.

Their successful business venture, coupled with the warm weather and the sunny day, would have made this a truly pleasing day if it hadn't been for Gimìs' own nephew.

Gloinnìs, sitting by his mother's side and looking around, had in fact already started his usual muttering about inspirations and, on this specific day, leaf motifs and acorn motifs and natural themed motifs and motifs motifs, motifs.

For all that Gimìs understood the loving of one's Craft, put him in a good forge and give him weapons to create and he'd forget to sleep, he hoped Mahal would spare him from his nephew's rambling as often as possible, and inflict it on some other dwarrow. It was a sad state of things, really, that there were no other jewellers in the Company to drop Gloinnìs at the side of.

***

Gloìn looked around and nodded to himself, satisfied.

They had managed to make their way to Hobbiton soon enough and were now in what one of the residents had called The Great Smials, trying to narrow down which one was the one they needed to find.

“Ah yes, Bag End.” The hobbit he had just asked, one Sigismond Took, nodded, with a pleasant little smile. “Why, it's my cousin Bixa's smial! I will lead you there myself, if you just have the patience to wait for my wife's poultice to do its work.”

He gestured with his lit pipe to his raised leg, over which a poultice had indeed been spread, his smile deepening as he watched three of the wee ones skip their way down the road, in the direction Gloìn and his brother had come from.

“What is it made of?” His brother asked and Gloìn tried to suppress a groan at the way the halfling seemed to puff up, calling for his wife to come join them. Now they were not going to go anywhere in any useful time!

Of all the times for his brother to start asking questions, this really wasn't the right one.

Still, Gloìn settled down well enough when, in addition to a jar of poultice for his brother to examine and take away, Sigismond's wife took out a few tankards of the locale ale and enough food to tide them over 'till the next day.

If they were going to lose the bet, at least he wasn't going to do it on an empty stomach.

***

Bixa had stocked her pantry enough to feed at least twenty dwarves, after Gandalf had left the previous day, looking so satisfied with himself that she had been tempted to throw something at the wizard's head.

She had told him, in quite clear terms, that she wasn't ready for an adventure, any kind of adventure, and that he should have headed to the Great Smials to talk with her Took cousins but had he listened to her? No!

He had even gone as far as scratching her beautiful, recently painted door with the dwarven rune Odo used to have stitched on some of his clothes. The one her husband had told her meant _Burglar wants a good job, plenty of Excitement and reasonable Reward_. Which was a lie if she had ever heard one!

A pack of lies, even! To count them off: she wasn't even halfway done with her (secret) self-training, she wasn't looking for any job, she didn't care for any reward she might get offered and the most excitement she looked forward to was finally getting a handle on some of Odo's harder sleight of hand tricks, which she had been learning off her more discreet Took cousins.

Gandalf was going to hear from her, that was for sure, and he was going to hear from most of her neighbourhood and relatives too, if the voice went out that he had come and dragged her away for an adventure. Why, Hamfast would probably give him a piece of his mind strong enough to be heard all the way to Tuckboro, wizard or not!

Sadly, satisfying as that had the potential to be, Bixa was well aware of the facts that not only that wasn't going to happen but that if Gandalf got his way, which sounded worringly possible given the wizard's history as a Disturber of the Peace, it was _her_ reputation that was going to end up in tatters and _her_ position in the social standing of Hobbiton _and_ Hobbit society at large, that would be compromised.

She had thus taken steps to ensure the legitimacy of any possible leaving on her part, making a detour on her way to the market to talk with Fortinbras Took the second, not only as a niece to her uncle but also as a respectable widow with the Thàin. She hadn't even needed to ask for his help in straightening her affairs and write her will, as he had swiftly offered, and perhaps a bit imposed it, with a grudging agreement that she was to leave only if this regarded some affair Odo had left pending.

He had also sent her aunts with her to the market, to help her with both the acquiring of ingredients and the cooking of food for the next day, and to act as chaperones during the dwarf's visit. Bixa was, after all, a widow not even out of her mourning yet.

It was fortunate, for all the little faunts her relatives had sent to her to forewarn her of the presence of dwarves asking for instructions to her house, that all three hobbit lasses had been hard at work since just before elevenses, as all the fauntlings were not only treated to tea and at least one cake each, on arrival, but they were also given something to eat on their way back.

In fact, it was only after their stomachs had been properly filled, and their zealousness repaid with a packet of biscuits each, that they were sent back to the families they had come from, with parcels of food and instructions to let the dwarves come once her relatives' curiosity with her guests had been satisfied.

Bixa wasn't about to deprive any hobbit, and especially any protective relative of hers, of a bit of fun at the expense of dwarves. Especially dwarves who were working with Gandalf and were probably involved with whatever it was that had led to her husband's demise, coming around before her mourning period was even over, showing no respect for her and letting that confusticated wizard lead them around.

They had garnered little to no sympathy in her quarters and she wasn't above a spot of childishness, here or there.

***

Nori was starting to feel quite ready to drag Ori off and leave Dori to fend for himself.

Not that Dori would have minded, the simpleton, busy as he was being courted by all the vendors in the Hobbiton market. Not that Ori would have allowed him to, the sap, entranced as he was by the books that one halfling was showing him.

They were being waylad, distracted, and neither of his brothers had had any interest in believing him, when he had tried to tell them, despite the fact that it was Nori who had the most experience of the world out of the three of them, on top of a keen eye for a con.

Because that was what this was. Just a really good con, meant to cheat them out of getting to Bag End _and_ of their hard earned money through an endless parade of delicate goods that Dori couldn't help but admire and a collection of written and empty books Ori could barely keep his hands off of.

How was it possible that his brothers didn't realize it?

“Care for a game of conkers, master dwarrow?” One of the halflings' kids asked, drawing Nori's gaze away from the disastrous sight his brothers offered, offering up a snail shell at him. “It's not hard.” The little one smiled, encouragingly.

Nori rolled his eyes and huffed, regretting his decision to discreetly follow the Is family to this madhouse one more time. It had looked like a sound, practical idea at the time, as they had looked to be the only group to know what they were doing, and Nyrìs, that shrewd dam, had kept giving looks to a piece of paper that looked suspiciously like a map. It was turning out to be an idiotic move, now that they were stuck in this Mahal-forsaken market.

“Only one game.” He said, since there was no safe way of tearing his brothers away from the market, just yet, and crouched down, taking the shell. He wasn't going to cheat wee halflings, he had some a shred of decency or two still left (no matter what Dori thought), but he could still enjoy the distraction of what looked to be a game of skill. “What are the rules, exactly?”

***

Donnamira exchange a look with her sister Mirabella, behind their niece's back, and they shared a smile.

They weren't happy about anything, regarding the current state of things, and they neither wanted little Bixa to leave nor for her to get implicated into anything Odo had been part of, given the end it had brought to their nephew, but at the same time there was no denying it.

Grumbling as she may have been, angry as she may have proclaimed and as clearly crossed as she was appearing, Bixa had been busier and more active in the last two days than they had seen her be in months.

Perhaps the dwarves wouldn't turn out to be such a bad thing.

Unless they actually had reason to bring Bixa away.

In that case they would be treated as the Disturbers of the Peace they deserved to be branded as.

***

Dori and Ori ended up having to literally drag Nori away from the corner of the market the little halflings had settled in with him, Dori's hand firmly clasped over Nori's mouth to stop his brother from landing them all in hot water with the halflings, given the kind of filth he was spouting. Not that he didn't understand, given that Nori was being forced to leave behind a decent pile of odds and ends and a few coins beside, but they weren't supposed to incit a riot or create any disturbance at all.

Granted, what Nori was spouting was not only muffled, now, but also in Khuzdul.

Sadly, there also wasn't much to mistake about his tone.

***

Thorin looked around and barely suppressed a growl at the sight of only trees and more trees, surrounding him from all sides and giving him no hint as to what direction he had to go into to head back or, more generally, get out of the forest he had found himself in.

“You know.” A voice said and Thorin whirled on himself, finding himself staring down at a halfling he could have swore had appeared out of nowhere. “I wanted to delay you, but the way you have been going at this, you are actually going to need my help, not to end as far as the Barrow Downs or worse.”

He puffed on his pipe, and how had Thorin failed to notice the smell of pipeweed? And what did the hobbit mean with that ' _delay you_ ' ?, and bowed.

“Gorbadoc Brandybuck, at your service.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the beginning, as the order the dwarves arrive at Bixa's place will change from fic to fic. I hope you all enjoyed it and will stay tuned for more fics in this series!
> 
> All the Hobbits mentioned have been taken from the hobbit family trees in the Appendixes of Return of the King.
> 
> Also if you noticed that some dwarve refer to the Hobbit as Hobbits and some as Halflings, that's not casual.


	4. Part Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fortinbras Took the Second was increasingly displeased with the current state of affairs in the Shire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had counted on making this story three chapters long, if that, by dividing it in "what the Shire things", "Bixa's backstory" and "Dwarven point of view on arrival". As all plans do, this fared well until contact with an enemy of sort happened. In this case, the whole of the Hobbit society as I saw it in the books (as I work on a mixed book / movie canon) and as I magine it to be by basing it on pre-industrial English country society.
> 
> As you've seen in the previous chapter, the Hobbits didn't take kindly to the dwarves and consequences were had. Then Odo's family decided to butt it's head in and tell me in clear words that no, they were not allowing a relative who is doubly so (by blood through her mother and by marriage through Odo) to just take off and disappear. So this beginning point of a story has now snowballed into a "I don't know how long this is gonna be" first fic in the verse and you will have to put up with more Hobbit shenanigans (I also had to go back and change a few names around to use the right hobbits for that period of time).
> 
> Khuzdul will be underlined in the text.
> 
> Thankfully, my reviewers and all the people who left kudos and bookmarked this story clearly don't mind. You are all very, very awesome people and I'm grateful for all the attention you have given to my work!

Fortinbras Took the Second was increasingly displeased with the current state of affairs in the Shire.

While he had indeed helped his niece put her affair in order, the previous day, and dispatched his own sisters to help her prepare for any number of guests that menace Gandalf might bring on his niece's doorstep, his actions hadn't stopped there.

As soon as Bixa had been calmer, and was off on the way back to Hobbiton with her aunts, Fortinbras had called on the local Shirrif and asked him to share all the reports that had come in from the Bounders patrolling along the Great East Road in the previous three days, and to spread the word to all Shirrifs and Bounders to keep an eye out for Gandalf and any possible dwarves.

He hadn't been pleased at all to find out that a company of fourteen dwarves had arrived in the Shire the previous day and had since taken lodging in Bywater, at the Green Dragon Inn, nor had he been pleased to be alerted to the presence of two more dwarves, coming in only that same day and joining the others at the Inn.

Fortinbras had only been the Thain for less than two full years, ever since his father had passed on, but he had been a Took all of his life and preparing to take over as Thain for a good part of the same. That meant that he was aware of far more informations about the outside world than the average Hobbit was interested to know in all of his, or her, life.

His family's experiences had been invaluable to him, and to his father, into keeping up with affairs outside of the world. Fortinbras, personally, had always held particular affection for his cousins Adalgrim and the late, and very sorely missed, Odo, who had been the younger of the three friends and his brother Adalgrim's most beloved relative.

Where Adalgrim was a Bounder, and a very good one at that, it was Odo, with his work as a Problem Solver And Treasure Hunter (as he had liked to describe it), that had brought the most accurate informations on dwarven practices and distinctive signs. It was thanks to Bixa's own late husband that Fortinbras had been able to realize just who had entered the Shire in the last couple of days.

And what a motley group they were!

To begin with, they had two princes, blue hoods, with an advisor or tutor or both, scarlet hood, along with two independent tradesmen (tradesdwarves?), purple hoods, a scribe, grey hood, someone in the financial trade, the brown hood. As if they weren't enough, the rest of the group then included a healer, white hood, two miners, yellow hoods, a member of the palace staff, pale green hood, a merchant, turquoise hood, a caravan guard, muddy brown hood, and a jeweler, pale grey hood.

And then, a little time later, there had come King Thorin Oakenshield himself, as there was only one King of dwarves left near them and only he could wear a sky blue hood with a silver tassel (still according to Odo's notes), in the company of the royal head of guards, the dark green hood.

To top it off, Gandalf had been with them and had then proceeded to not only disturb a young (barely forty-three years of age!) mourning widow, but had also somewhat taken her denials and refusal to participate in an adventure to mean that she was in need of one. Of all the conceited, insufferable, presumptuous beings!

There was nothing Fortinbras would have liked more to just tell them all to sod off, leave the Shire and just let them all be.

Had Gandalf not being involved, he might have had done just that, King or no King.

The Shire was not under the jurisdiction of King Oakenshield and Ered Luin depended greatly on them not only for passage towards the East and all the way to the Iron Hills, as the Great East Road went by the Shire, but also for provisions during the Blue Mountain's harder winters, when their own food came to lack, and to sell their wares and acquire what they couldn't produce but could find in the Michel Delving's market. It was not convenient for King Oakenshield to disagree with the Hobbits, as much as the dwarves might have pretended not to.

Yet, Gandalf _was_ involved and that meant that there were far more things afoot than Fortinbras would be allowed to know until everything was said and done, possibly a few more still that he was never going to know about. This, at least, according to the words of the Old Took, who had been an actual friend of the wizard, and the Thain before Fortinbras father and uncle.

Gandalf, the Old Took had claimed, had to be allowed to get his way. Not smoothly as the fellow might have liked and not without putting a bit of an obstacle in his way, because no Hobbit liked to bow to the whims of someone who couldn't be bothered to explain himself, but allowed nonetheless, for he knew what was better.

Which meant that while Fortinbras was aware that Bixa had to go, he wasn't about to make it easy for them to spirit her away or to not put down his foot and set a few conditions of his own.

Which was exactly why he had posted not only the Shirrifs but a few Bounders, including Adalgrim, to keep an eye on the dwarves and waylay them if deemed necessary, and had relied on the natural Hobbit tendency to defend their own to do the rest, knowing that both he and the Hobbiton shirrif were soon going to receive many a visit from the locals, in regards to the presence of the dwarves and whatever information the dwarves had carelessly let out.

Indeed, his fiery Lalia had spent most of the afternoon not only feeding the various fauntlings and hobbits that came by to report on what was being done to delay the dwarves from reaching Bag End but also in deep conversation with Bixa's father's sister Belba, who was eighty-five and as unrelenting in bringing down whoever she deemed an enemy as ever.

Fortinbras had been largely avoiding disturbing them and their plotting, instead sending his son Ferumbras to keep them abreast of his plans and get the latest news, making sure to have a kettle of tea and a few cakes brought whenever his son left for the living room, to give him strength when he returned.

It was the least he could do, for the brave lad.

 

***

 

Mirabella found herself very relieved that Bixa had actually taken the time to explain to her and Donnamira things about the dwarves, while they working on cooking enough food to last for a whole Hobbit family gathering, when she went to open the door.

For she found herself staring at what, to her mind, looked to be a slightly feminine male dwarf dressed in a woman's traveling clothes and wearing a turquoise hood. According to Bixa, _Dwarrodams_ or just _dams_ was what that kind of dwarf was called and turquoise, as a hood color, was for _merchants_ , her mind reminded her, while she was trying to get over the disconcerting sight.

“Nyrìs!” The dwarf intoned, sweeping down in a bow, and was immediately joined by a big, burly male, going by all appearances and clothes, male dwarf and a slightly thinner, still manly dressed, dwarf who introduced themselves as “Gimìs!” and “Gloinnìs!” as they moved.

It was all very well done, with a synchronicity that appeared to be borne out of practice, and it allowed her to see the back of their hoods. A muddy brown, _caravan guard_ , and a very light grey, _jeweler_ , ones. Well then, and no confusticated wizard in sight either, yet.

“At your service!” All three chorused and then straightened up, and Donnamira bowed back to them and answered with a “Mirabella Took, at yours.” as was her due.

“I am sorry to say, we were not expecting guests.” She added, before one of them could talk, putting on her Polite Company Smile number #6, otherwise known as ' _I do not know what is going on but I am willing to not hold it over you if you explain,_ _ **fast**_.'

The dwarf, no  _ dam _ she corrected herself, lowered his,  _ her _ and bebother them but it was hard to think of a dwarf as a female, hood, revealing a thick braid running from the forehead to the back of h-  _ her _ head and four thinner braids per side, all leading to a circular braid wrapped around the back of her head and around what looked to be like a bun.

H-  _ She _ also had impressively well groomed side-burns and a patch of beard on h-  _ her _ chin that had, further down, been wrapped in a bead, then allowed to expand in a round shape only be wrapped in another bead, braided in a straight line and then topped off by a third bead, all of which looked to be made of silver and finely crafted with what Mirabella assumed, based on the color alone, to be real turquoises.

And while the beard was disconcerting, the sideburns even more so and the braiding was the kind that made the envious side of Mirabella positively  _ swoon _ ; it was the color that drew her attention. Dark,  _ dark _ red that tapered off in a lighter series of hues that slid to copper and from there to blondish to almost white.

Mirabella fixed her smile into place and hoped her desire to snatch the dw-  _ dam  _ bald and run off with her hair would show as clear as she felt it. Bebother and confusticate her, for having such beautiful –

The other two lowered their own hoods.  _ They had the same hue _ ! The lucky sods! Mirabella found herself much less well disposed towards them than she had been a few moments before and she didn't care one whit that it was all due to jealousy. It wasn't like she was going to allow it to show!

 

***

 

Saradas Brandybuck thought he was to praise for the straight face he kept when the dwarf he and his sister were hanging on realized he had been walking well past the turn for Hobbiton and started swearing up a storm.

He couldn't understand the language, but he was pretty sure that it  _ was _ swearing and the sight was funny enough that Amaranth had to excuse herself for 'a short visit to the bushes'. Given that she usually was the more composed, out of the two of them, Saras felt he truly deserved a couple of seed cakes all for himself, given his control. It's not like it was  _ easy _ , not to laugh!

“If you want, we can show you the way, when Amaranth comes back!” He piped up, when the dwarf looked like he was running out of steam and breath, and smiled when the massive being turned to him, the same smile he used whenever he wanted the cookies and needed to convince his mother that yes, he _had_ been good.

The dwarf grumbled something in his language and then nodded, pinching his nose between his thick fingers, the way Saradas' mother did whenever she was well and truly fed up. Saradas knew just the right way to distract the dwarf, as they waited for his sister to stop laughing in the bushes.

“Have you ever played conkers?”

 

***

 

It had taken a thorough dunking, courtesy of Dori's strength and short temper, in the Bywater Pool, the name of the lake Hobbiton was built on the side of (according to the explanation the inn owner's daughter had so gently given to Ori the afternoon before), to calm down Nori, who was now soaking wet and in possess of a semblance of calm, while he allowed Dori to fuss all over him. That was, he looked like he possessed it until whenever a fauntling, as Ori had heard them called, would cross Nori's line of sight, at which point there was a tell tale narrowing of his older brother's eyes.

There were a lot of fauntlings.

So many of them, in fact, that Ori had been floored by the sheer amount when they had first reached the inhabited parts of the Shire. He had known that men, possibly due to the shortness of their lives, were able to breed easily, sometimes in as much a prolific way as rabbits, but he had no idea that the Hobbits had been just as well off.

Many of the members of the Company had looked with soft eyes and a certain envy at the wee ones in the little settlements they had passed and with definite envy, especially on the young princes part, to the ones they had seen playing by the fields or going up the trees in the country that surrounded the settlement, with barely an older sibling keeping watch on them.

They had never known the kind of peace the Shire was graced by, not even in the Blue Mountains, nor the abudance that the Hobbits were surrounded by. Master Oakenshield's kingdom was prosperous but it had taken time to make it so and it still didn't have the natural advantages of the Shire's terrain and plentiness. It had left them wistful, more inclined to break out in old songs and to reminish about the better and far away times that almost no one had personally experienced.

Master Oakenshield had not come with them, as he had gone with Master Dwalin to a meeting of the other dwarven leaders to ask if any was willing to join them. Master Balin had been only seven, when the dragon had come, which meant that only Mistress Nyrìs and Master Gimìs actually had any clear memories of Erebor.

As the oldest member of the Company, at two hundred and twenty, Mistress Nyrìs had been forty nine when Erebor had fallen. Her brother, Master Gimìs, had been nineteen himself, more than old enough to remember life in Erebor but yet too young to be involved in the hustle and bustle of the working life inside the Mountain. He and Master Balin had remembered fondly their time as young dwarrows, Master Balin in the Halls of the Nobles and Master Gimìs in the Artisans District, with other young dwarrows like them. Mistress Nyrìs had been able to paint a fuller picture of Erebor as a whole, as she had been an adult and thus had been taken to visit the various workshops and districts, in the hope that she would find her Craft or, at least, find a field she was interested into.

Their tales had made for more than one merry night around the fire. Ori had taken many a note during those nights, with their permission, and his hands now hitched to reach out and take one of his new blank books and start filling it with drawings and notes on what he was seeing and observing of the Shire and the Hobbits. He refrained, though, out of respect for Nori's temper who was hard to provoke but also slow to cool when riled.

He was going to have to make do from his memories, later, or simply wait until Nori was distracted enough not to notice what Ori was doing.

Ori was well aware that they were not going to get back on track towards their destination until his oldest brother was satisfied, so for now he sighed and waited for Dori to be done fussing.

 

***

 

Fili wasn't yet ready to admit to Kili that his brother _might_ have been right and that they _might_ have gotten if not mislead than lost. Might, after all, wasn't anything else than a possibility and Hobbiton, as the quaint little village they were searching for was called, probably was just over by the next fork, whenever they reached it.

He had followed the halflings' instructions, which had been very clear, and he had excellent sense of direction even out of the stone, unlike their Uncle, who was hopelessly lost whenever they left a rocky terrain.

Fili was well aware that, in the tradition of siblings everywhere, if he admitted to the possibility of being lost, Kili wasn't going to let it go. Not even when they returned to stone. Not even in Mahal's halls while they waited for the whole world to be remade. Were they to find themselves reunited afterward, his brother would probably unerringly remember that Fili had once gotten lost in the most peaceful looking place of all and he would use it as ammunition, to tease him.

So no, he was not yet ready to admit to this kind of failing (and wouldn't be for a while). Which just meant that he was just going to fake absolute confidence to keep Kili convinced that they were going to get to the village, any time now, until they actually got to the Mahal-forsaken place. Fili was excellent at faking confidence and sureness.

And he had just resolved to do just so, for the nth time in the evening, when out of the woods on their right, with no forewarning and no sound at all to give him away before he was stepping out of them, came a halfling.

 

***

 

“So you are --”

“Bixa Baggins-Took's Took aunt Mirabella's husband.” Gorbadoc Brandybuck summed up patiently, as he slowly and leisurably guided their way back towards Hobbiton, enjoying the taste of Old Toby and amusedly watching the big, imposing, navigationally-challenged King of Dwarves. At least that was what he looked like he was doing to Thorin. “Her older brother Hildigrim, who just left for Yavanna's gardens this year, was Odo's father, may they both enjoy her fields.”

“And the Master of Buckland.” Thorin added, for good measure. He knew enough about the Shire to be aware that the Buckland was a more independent part of it, whose Master was loosely related to the Thain, who overseed the rest of the Shire. Which meant that their burglar had powerful connections of her own.

“Indeed.” Master Brandybuck nodded, apparently satisfied with Thorin's words, as he nodded in approval and blew a smoke ring in the air.

“My wife will be most put out that Bixa has to leave.” Master Brandybuck observed, in the same mild tone that Thorin used when someone had just made his sister mad enough that she was reaching for her axe, making a shiver run down the King's back. “I understand that the contract is binding, and so will she, but do not expect her to be happy about it, mind my words.”

Thorin minded them. He minded them greatly, in fact, and he was now much more worried about the security of their burglar and the treatment he was going to have in her regards. Useless as she might be, being a halfling and having lived a coddled life so far, that didn't mean that he was going to be allowed as much leeway, even just in his verbal interactions with her, as he might have had if she hadn't been so powerfully connected.

It irked at him, that he might have to coddle the halfling that the wizard wanted them to drag along. It made him want to bristle. Yet, he was aware of the importance of keeping a good relationship with the Shire, if only for the good of their Blue Mountain's colony, and so he would curb his tongue.

“What with Bixa having been a widow for less than a year --” Master Brandybuck's words might have made Thorin flinch, had he not had decades of experience in not reacting to Dìs' barbs and provocations. “-- and her being so young too.”

That brought Thorin up short, a bit. He was aware of the differences between halfling and dwarven aging, the number of Thain's he had exchanged letters with in the years had certainly kept the knowledge fresh in his mind, but he was also aware that Odo Took had been in his late fifties, which was more than half his life.

“Young?” He asked, abruptly he was aware but this was an important matter. Fili and Kili were very young dwarves, younger than any other member of the Company by a good fifty years, and while he _had_ brought them along, it was a decision that had and still weighted heavily on his heart.

“Why, yes.” Master Brandybuck nodded, a flash of mischief in his eyes that made Thorin draw up, his body tensing instinctively in preparation of the blow he was about to be dealt. Just from the expression of the halfling, he was sure that their burglar's age was going to weight on him for a long time too.

“It was unconventional, but not unheard of, you see. 'specially not for a Took who spent most of his time outside the Shire, instead of contenting himself with a job as a Bounder. It surprised everyone when _she_ went for it, proper little Baggins thing that she was, in spite of her mother being a notoriously adventurous Took.”

Thorin just looked straight up ahead, filtering the informations and storing them away, the tension in his body growing with each word that was not the concrete information he was waiting to hear. He was sure the halfling was doing this on purpose, even though he didn't look like it. Sly thing.

“Why, I remember their marriage as if it was yesterday, even though it was almost nine years ago.” Master Brandybuck went on, spending an otrageous amount of time prattling about a ceremony Thorin had no interest into and a scandalous number of halflings he had no interest in.

He would have interrupted him, hurried him on, but this was the Master of Buckland he was talking to and so, for the good of the Blue Mountains, Thorin curbed his tongue and regretted that Balin and Dwalin were not around to pay witness to his patience making a rare appearance.

“-- and there, in the middle of it all, were Odo, forty-nine and looking even a bit older, and Bixa, radiant as the sun --” Thorin went back to paying more attention to the prattling of the halfling “-- and still looking just come of age, even though she was already two years above it, at thirty-five.”

Thorin's mind, used to much more complicate calculations, made the sum in a split second and he felt his breath leave his lungs and his eyes widen as he turned to look at the smiling halfling, who was puffing his pipe and unabashedly taking in Thorin's own horrified reaction.

“She's only forty-three?!” Thorin roared. Mahal forgive him, she was barely more than a babe!

“You and my wife are going to get along greatly.” The accursed creature smiled, insufferably pleased with himself.

 

***

 

It was with deep regret that Bifur and his cousins declined the Bolger's offer of staying for dinner.

He and Bofur packed up their carving tools and Bombur wrapped up his discussion on the finer points of spice rubs for venison, gratefully accepting the wooden container filled with spice rub packets that Mistress Bolger had insisted on gifting him, and they all got back on the road, with clear instructions as how to reach the Smial-don't-call-them-holes called Bag End.

Bifur couldn't remember a time when he had been able to afford spending an afternoon just basking in the sunlight and working on his carving.

While he and Bofur did carve out toys, and had a nicely profitable deal with the Is family to have them sold, it was an activity they usually indulged in after dinner, when they were stretching their legs in front of the fire and listening to Bombur recounting the latest palace gossip.

Necessity had made miners of them, when they were very young, and they had both developed a love of it. It wasn't their Craft, as it was toy-making that Called to them as much as cooking did to Bombur, but in the long decades before Thorin Oakenshield became King, mining had become a calling of sorts, especially for Bofur.

His cousin possessed a very refined stonesense, one that had often helped avoid injuries or problems that less attuned miners might have failed to notice, giving Bofur a good reputation in the mines and an enjoyment of the work they did there that was spurred by the stones welcoming him.

Bifur, whose stone sense had never been remarkable to begin with and had dwindled some after his head injury, had instead relished the hard work and the long hours spent in silence, just working on his part of the seam or with others propping a tunnel, his Khuzdul not sounding so foreign in the depths of a mine.

By the time the Blue Mountains had finally reached prosperity, both him and his cousin had been well settled in their work as miners and where Bifur would have left it happily to pursue his Craft, Bofur had decided to keep working as a miner, refusing to leave the miners they had formed friendships with in the years spent working together. As Bifur wasn't going to leave Bofur alone, down in the mines, he had remained too and their Craft had gotten sidelined.

It was not usual and at the same time not unheard of, in their kind of times, to put aside one's Craft. It had previously happened in time of needs and with strong enough ties to keep the dwarves in question from giving themselves over to their Craft alone. It was considered one of the greatest sacrifices a dwarf could make and one of the hardest to accomplish. Certainly it hadn't been an easy decision, but it was one they had made and stuck to and one they had not had cause to regret yet.

As much as they liked mining, though, Bifur had seen on Bofur's face the same feeling of contentment that he had experienced, working little pieces of woods in toy dwarves and animals, watching the young halflings light up as the shapes took form and then show the toys to each other in delight. It had felt _right_ , it had felt like what he had been made by Mahal to do, all of it and not only the toy making itself.

“It has little stone, but I do like this Shire.” Bombur declared, in Khuzdul, with a smile, while Bofur packed his pipe with some of the pipe weed their host had gifted them, a smile lingering on his lips.

“They are a good kind of people.” Bofur agreed. “I can see why Mali and Nali always come back from Michel Delving with smiles on their faces.”

“Agreed.” Bifur nodded. His battle brothers never looked happier to set off or come back from a selling trip than when they headed for the Shire alone. “Their claims to the pleasantness of this place make sense too.” He added, looking around.

It was late afternoon, but the sun hadn't gone down yet and they could see the farmers coming back from the fields, greeted by families and friends, jovially conversing with each other. All of the halflings looked rotund enough, despite the hard work they had engaged in for most of the day, and not one of them appeared to be anything but content.

Some of the little ones they had carved wood for passed them at a run, eagerly heading for an older halfling, waving their toys in the air, and Bifur felt a content smile stretch his lips, saw Bofur's eyes soften as he lit his pipe and heard Bombur chuckle just behind them.

He did quite like the Shire himself, quite a lot too.

 

***

 

“Dwalin.” The dwarf at the door half-roared, bowing deeply. “At your service.”

Bixa blinked, and then suppressed a giggle as she noticed the familiar enough shapes of Saradas and Amaranth heading down the road, hanging on each other and looking like they were trying to suppress some truly impressive laughter.

“Bixa Baggins-Took at yours.” She replied, bowing to him, and then stepped back, taking in his dark green hood and squaring her shoulder a bit. “Please, do come in, we are about to start putting dinner on the table, for the few that have already arrived.”

He straightened, threw a truly impressive glare over his shoulder at the retreating shapes of her cousins and then stepped inside.

“You can settle your weapons here.” Bixa hurried to say, showing him the weapon rack Odo had brought from his mother's smial when he had moved in and wanting to avoid having his quite impressive weapons dropped in her arms to deal with, as the host.

“Hood and coat here.” She added, while he started unloading himself, motioning with her hand to the line of double hooks that she herself had helped Odo mount in the wall, by the weapon rack.

He grunted at her, with a nod, and looked around.

“How many of the others are here?” He asked, rather darkly, even though he could perfectly see for himself both the weapons that had been deposited already and the hoods that had been set up.

“The Is family is here. We are waiting for the rest of your Company to start dinner.” She explained, dutifully. His dark mood wasn't putting her off, as she had a pretty good idea of the kind of mischief Saradas and Amaranth may have been up to, when presented with the occasion a blue-bearded dwarf represented.

He turned, looking thunderous, and then stopped short, his eyes fixed at the height of the copper beads holding the end of their braids together. He looked thrown, uncertain, and Bixa was grateful once more for the explanations that Odo had given her, along with the beads.

“One of my husband's courting gifts, to honor our relationship. He had the title of Dwarf Friend and was thus allowed to be made aware of the runes that had to be engraved on the bead set he made for me.” She explained, her speech too formal and her voice far too wobbling for her liking, as she blinked fast to stop her tears from running.

She couldn't help it. It was one of those moments, when memories hit her like a pony kick in the stomach. She remembered how proud and embarassed Odo had been, presenting them to her. She could still hear his voice fumble a bit, remember the warmth of his hands and the way they had doggedly made sure that her braids would remain braided before clicking the beads closed into place. His smile had been crooked, at it always was when he was nervous, and the had pressed a quick kiss to her lips when he had been done, smelling like the mint leaves they had been chewing on.

This, however, was not the time to let herself wander off the path of memory, she reminded to herself sternly, breathing in sharply and squeezing her hands into fists, behind her back. "My apologies.” She said, making an effort to steady her voice, and refocusing her attention on the dwarf standing in front of her. “I am usually more composed --”

“No need to apology, lass.” He interrupted her, gruffly, looking even more awkward than she felt. “You were saying about dinner?” He bravely soldiered on, moving forward.

Bixa blinked again and then smiled up at him, grateful for the distraction as she started down the hallway, leading him towards the big living room, where the tables for the dinner had been set, describing to him the food that they were going to serve and inquiring about his own preferences.

This was not shaping itself out to be the disaster she had feared it would turn into, when she had found out she was supposed to provide food enough for sixteen dwarves, on top of the wizard. That had not been her finest moment, what with the fainting.

 

***

 

“Rosaline Took! Outside at this hour!”

“Jessamine Boffin!” Mistress Took's tone was a pitch perfect mockery of the other lass' voice. “What would Herugar Bolger say, to see you cavorting around with a dwarf?”

  
“Cavorting? Me!” She laughed and then hooked her arm to the other Hobbit's own. “I am just escorting Master Balin to Bag End. What does your Sigismond say, of you leaving her home with your Ferdinand while _you_ run around with two dwarves of your own?”

“As luck would have it, my Sigismond is the one who sent me to accompany Masters Oìn and Gloìn to Bag End too. His bad leg was acting up, you see.”

“The poor thing.”

Oìn gave his brother a look and, when Gloìn shook his head, he tucked away his hearing horn and blissfully let the chattering drop in volume considerably. He had never had much patience for this kind of useless talk.

Master Balin, he noticed, looked interested instead, a slightly rueful smile on his lips as he nodded to them and fell into step with them, giving a curious look to the wooden box Oìn was carrying, in which Mistress Took had put many an ointment and enough herbs and pipe-weed to last him at least for the first two legs of their trip, if they didn't happen to meet battle.

All three of them dutifully trailed behind the two Hobbit lasses, letting them lead the way to their destination, pleasantly full and rested from the afternoon of eating and talking they had indulged into. He wasn't sure he was going to be able to eat before lunch tomorrow, he was that full.

 

***

 

Adalgrim watched as Flambard led the two dwarven princes through the underbrush, cutting in between fields so that they would not know that the 'shortcut' they were taking was actually a commonly used farmway back to Hobbiton.

They hadn't noticed him yet and they weren't going to until he wanted them to. It had been 'unless' in the beginning, but since Flambard had started talking with them it had changed in a definite 'until'.

He had to give them credit for not giving away much, though enough had gotten out of them that Gerontius had left to go report to the Thain. He was now sure that these two dwarves were part of the group that had contracted Odo. As far as he knew, his little brother had been hired to scout for them on the road past Bree and for "further services" that Odo hadn't been able to tell him about, quoting "contractual restrictions" as the reason why.

They were on a Quest of some sort, heading West. They had come from the Blue Mountains and their hoods identified them as princes, which meant they were King Oakenshield's sister's sons, Fili and Kili, the only princes the Blue Mountains had.

It had to be a quest of import, for both of them to participate into it, and it added with both the number of supplies the dwarves had both carried and restocked in Bywater and the assortment of weaponry they were bringing with themselves, both on them and on their ponies. A quest they had needed a burglar, for that Odo was for all that he pretended not to be, of hobbit persuasion, because Adalgrim didn't doubt that if a dwarf could have fitted the bill a dwarf they would have used.

They knew Bixa's name and what her smial was called, which Adalgrim took to mean that Odo had made sure they knew, for reasons that he certainly hadn't explained to _his own brother_. Possibly because Odo knew that Adalgrim would have pinched his ear for this kind of thing, but also possibly because Odo understood his wife much better than Adalgrim had ever understood his sister in law.

Yet, Odo _had_ asked him to look after Bixa, should have something happened to him.

Back then Adalgrim had thought that Odo had asked because they were brothers. Now, however, he was starting to suspect that his position as a Bounder had held a sway in Odo's request too, as his experience put him in the position of being both a fighter and expert in leaving in less than comfortable conditions. Both of them things Bixa had little to no experience into and that now would come eminently useful to her, should she have someone around willing to teach her on the way.

It hit him then.

Odo had _planned_ for this.

He must have had.

The _scrawny little twerp_.

Adalgrim stopped, jaw locking, and pressed his fisted hands against the nearest tree, breathing slowly and forcing himself not to choke on the rage and grief that were coursing through him, leaving him feeling fit to scream. Odo _must_ have suspected that the contract he had signed could have led him to his death and had taken steps to make sure that whatever happened to him, Bixa was going to have a protector that could double as a teacher, pushing Adalgrim under the metaphorical cart by making him responsible for his sister-in-law, through his given word as well as his own conscience.

If Bixa left, and as Gandalf was involved she _was_ going to leave whether anyone liked it or not, than he was honor bound and conscience bound to go with her, to see to her safety and to chaperone her, as to leave her reputation unsullied by her departure in such mixed company.

Adalgrim chocked on a sobbing laugh and smothered it in his own arm, trying to compose himself, the memory of the promises Odo had made him, one when Adalgrim had become a Bounder and the other on the day of Odo's marriage, flitting through his mind.

“ _One day, I will see to it that you go on a quest and you will have the grandest time.”_

“ _She has more Took than Baggins in her, my Bixa. I will make you see it.”_

He laughed, a rueful sound, and pushing himself back upright, pushing his hands over his cheeks to clean them. Dahlia was going to feel like _mauling_ him, for leaving her with four faunts and only a daughter of age to help her, as much as she would understand.

How like his brother, to make sure every base was covered.

The Bagginses might have thought themselves sensible, but they had nothing, _nothing_ , on a Took with someone to protect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While the dwarves do wear hoods in the book (the colors of their hoods are taken from there), there is no given significance or explained meaning to the difference in colors. Given that is the same for braids and beads and everyone loves to make his / her own headcanon up on those, I've decided to give little importance to the shape of the braids aside from personal preference, and use beads and hoods as ways to communicate informations about the dwarf wearing them.
> 
> Similarly, Dwalin's blue beard is never explained in the book that I can remember, but I thought it was cool and so dreamed up my own explanation for it (which I will leave unexplained until the occasion to explain it comes up in this fic or one of the following ones).
> 
> Regarding who is wearing what.
> 
> Fili and Kili have blue hoods, Balin has the scarlet hood, Dwalin the dark-green one. Dori / Nori / Ori plus Oin / Gloin are listed as arriving together and the hoods are listed as being two purple, one grey, one brown, one white. Same goes for Bifor / Bofur / Bombur plus Thorin (who actually ends up on the bottom of the pile up, which i find hilarious personally) who have two yellow, one pale green and a skye blue hood with a long silver tassel.
> 
> As a general note, I'm basing my dwarves mostly on the movies look-wise and their ages on the book version instead, which goes like follows, keeping in mind that "now" should be considered to be 2941 T.A. (Third Age) / 1341 S.R. (Shire Reckoning). I specify both dating systems, because dwarves use the T.A. one but the Shire has it's own calendar that was started with the colonization of the Shire, in T.A. 1300. Years of the Third Age can be converted to Shire-years by subtracting 1600. 
> 
> Thorin (born 2746 T.A.) was 24 when Smaug attacked (which happened in the 2770 T.A.) and 195 now. Fili (born 2858 T.A.) is 82 now. Kili (born 2864 T.A.) is 77 now and that makes him the younger dwarf on this journey.
> 
> Balin (born 2763 T.A.) was 7 when Smaug attacked and 178 now. Dwalin (born 2772 T.A.) is 169 now.
> 
> Oin (born 2774 T.A.) is 167 now. Gloin (born 2783 T.A.) is 158 now and became a father at the very young age of 96 when his wife gave birth to Gimli.
> 
> Bifor, Bofur and Bombur's birth dates were never listed, but given a few calculations, they have to have been born between 2763 and 2809. I have decided to use the following birth dates. Bifur (born 2758 T.A.) (for plot reasons that will come up later) is 183 now. Bofur (born 2777 T.A.) is 164 now. Bombur was (born 2794 T.A.) is 147 now.
> 
> Dori, Nori, and Ori suffer, relatively speaking, from the same problem as the Ur brothers, so again, I took it upon myself to decide their birth dates (and keep Ori as older than Fili and Kili). Dori (born 2763 T.A.) is 178 now. Nori (born 2782 T.A.) is 159 now. Ori (born 2804) is 137.
> 
> Regarding the Is family. As stated in this chapter, Nyrìs (born 2721 T.A.) was 49 when Smaug attacked and is 220 now. Gimìs (born 2751 T.A.) was 19 when Smaug attacked and is 190 now. Gloinnìs (born 2852 T.A.) is 89 now.
> 
> Bixa is younger than Bilbo by more or less a decade, which means that she was born in 1298 S.R. and was just a fauntling during Fell Winter. She came of age in 1331 S.R. and married in 1333 S.R. only for Odo to die in 1340 S.R.
> 
> This will most probably be explained in-story later on, but just in case I'm going to add it here: as far as I could ascertain canon dwarven ages work as follows.
> 
> Dwarves live around 250 years, average, up to 300 in rare cases (similar to men living to 100 in this kind of fantasy setting). Dwarves are considered too young for heavy labor or war until they are around 30 years of age (which means to me that in those first 30 years they train for at least war, if they are considered eligible for it only from that age, and possibly the heavier trades). By the age of 40 Dwarves have reached the appearance that they will keep for most of their lives. Between 40 and 240, dwarves remain strong, fit and able to work, fight and go about their life with the same amount of strength and energy as they did at the age of 40. They only start to age about ten years before their natural death, becoming wrinkled and their hair becoming grey (if they were not so before) but never going bald (so Dwalin cut his own hair).
> 
> This means that while Nyrìs is indeed old, she is as spry and able to go around as she was at 40 years of age, something she very much appreciates and denies any 'you are too old' argument.


End file.
